I've never seen beauty so devastatingas in the linesthat trace our hopeand fall from the stars.

Through windows, in wishing wells, whispering in the wind...that's where I find you.

In that wounded place, buried betweenmy ribs and letting go, I miss you.

I die a little, In the echo of your silence.

I was just an option.Blown easily to piecesand offered to the skyby the sweet laced painupon your lips.

I can't love anymore.Except for you...I love you so much it hurts to breathe.

Bridge burned from end to end, and I don't miss you anymore.You delivered silenceI've birthed freedom.

You are the poemthat sticks in my throatteaching me to whisperwith the voice of my heart.

Steep fall to the groundshatteringlike clay pigeons missed by bad shotsand unsteady hands.

Broken.As I search for hope, In the same eyesI lost it.

I build boxesand place them at your feet, to measure the distance between dreams and reality.

It's a little silly to finally learn how to write at this age. But I long ago realized I was secretly sincere.

As one of the dumb, voiceless ones I speak. One of the millions of immigrants beating, beating out their hearts at your gates for a breath of understanding.

We don't earn God's love; we receive it. We don't work for His approval; He approves us.

When some fellers decide to retire nobody knows the difference.

I wanna kiss you in Paris I wanna hold your hand in Rome

Scenes change while shooting. Nowadays, while you're shooting the movie, you're cutting at the same time.

The music stuff has been very difficult. It's got to be right, and even then, it better be on key.

Bring me an order of escargots, but hold the slugs.

Against the charitable gesture there is no defence.